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It starts with a dog and too many drinks. Though if Shane’s being fair, it probably actually starts with him being born, being an impressionable teen with too much internet access, and having a habit of clicking links he shouldn’t. Because now he has specific interests.
And those specific interests get him in trouble when they’re three quarters of the way through filming a new season of Too Many Spirits, crowded around the fire pit in Ryan’s parents’ backyard, drunk on questionable cocktails.
They’re taking a break while switching out batteries and Shane’s idly scrolling through Instagram, not paying much attention to anything, just trying to keep up his steady buzz.
“Hey, beautiful,” Ryan says, “you doing okay?”
Shane makes an affirmative noise and looks up before he even realizes his mistake. Ryan’s gaze snaps to him, lasering in on Shane like he's fucking RoboCop, and Shane swallows.
Ryan’s holding one of his parents’ dogs and Shane suddenly realizes Ryan wasn’t talking to him.
“What?” Ryan asks and Shane forces his expression into something neutral.
“What?” Shane repeats.
“Did you just answer me?”
“No,” Shane lies. “I was agreeing with the general statement.”
Ryan watches him, his cheeks ruddy from alcohol, eyes bright. “You agree that Dory is beautiful?”
“Yes,” Shane tells him, taking a large swallow of his drink, enough to burn his throat. “Very beautiful.”
“I don’t remember her being in your top five dogs.”
Shane grunts. “The list wasn’t that specific. It wasn’t top five dogs that you know personally.”
Ryan nods like he agrees. “Sure. What other words would you use to describe Dory?”
He shifts his hold on her and points her in Shane’s direction.
Shane stares into her beady little E.T. eyes and panics.
“Gorgeous,” he blurts. “Life-changing.”
Ryan laughs, Dory jiggling against his chest. “It looks like it hurt you to say that.”
“I have no problem complimenting dogs.”
“It almost comes naturally,” Ryan jokes. “So it wasn’t that you thought I was calling you beautiful?”
“No,” Shane says. “I don’t know why you would.”
“You don’t think I’d compliment you?”
“Ryan, when you saw my shorts tonight, you called me Richard Simmons. They’re not even that short.”
“For someone with normal length legs,” Ryan retorts. “I could compliment you.”
“Something backhanded,” Shane agrees and Ryan shakes his head.
“If I was going to compliment you, I wouldn’t call you beautiful.”
Shane raises an eyebrow. “I think you’ve misunderstood what a compliment is.”
"You'd know if I complimented you," Ryan tells him. "You wouldn't confuse it with me talking to the dog, would you, my pretty girl?"
Ryan's looking him dead in the eyes as he says it. There's no mistaking who it's for.
Shane's dick throbs and the noise he lets out isn’t dignified in the slightest.
Ryan goes through a quick succession of expressions: shock, humor, back to some kind of awe, and then to an undeniable interest as he rakes his gaze down Shane.
“Well that’s interesting,” Ryan says and Shane really doesn’t think it is. It’s more humiliating than anything else. In a split second, it’s fucked up Shane’s entire life.
"Ryan," he pleads, hoping more than anything that Ryan will drop the subject and let him boil alive in his own humiliation.
But Ryan glances towards the rest of the crew and then back at him and Shane knows it isn't going to go the way he wants.
"What's wrong, baby girl? Don't tell me you're shy. I thought you could take a compliment."
Shane crosses one leg over the other, the action clearly not lost on Ryan, who grins like a shark smelling blood.
"Is it seriously that easy?" Ryan asks and Shane doesn't answer.
He knows the best way to get Ryan to drop it is to not give him the reaction he wants. Which Shane will admit is hard — no pun intended — when his body instinctively does things.
"It's not you," Shane lies. "I'm — I'm drunk."
"Sure, sweetheart," Ryan retorts and Shane's stomach flips without his permission.
He forces himself not to blink; instead, brings his glass up to his mouth for another drink of Steven's concoction and holds Ryan's stare as if to say I'm fine, this is fine.
Ryan copies him, taking a sip of his own drink before leaning back in his chair, letting his legs splay shamelessly.
"Don't be embarrassed, sugar. There's nothing wrong with wanting this."
Shane sets his drink on the ground, uncrosses his legs, and pushes himself up.
The hem of his shirt thankfully falls low enough to hide anything incriminating, but he turns before Ryan can even think to try looking, and heads towards the house.
"I need a bathroom break," he tells the crew as he passes, but only Katie raises her head enough to acknowledge him.
Shane's been to Ryan's parents' house a few times prior to Too Many Spirits, which means he remembers the general layout of the house and the location of the guest bathroom.
He doesn't need to pee and doesn't think he even could if he wanted with the semi he's sporting, but he'll take a few minutes peace and quiet to wet his face and calm down.
Which is precisely when there's a knock on the door.
"Just a minute," he calls out, drying his face on the nearest hand towel.
There's no answer, but instead, the door handle rattles like someone is trying to turn it.
"One second," Shane tries, voice a little louder, but the door handle doesn't stop rattling and Shane realizes why.
Ryan pushes his way into the bathroom the second Shane unlocks the door. His hand is on Shane's shoulder, guiding him backwards before pulling the door shut behind them and locking it.
"Ryan," he warns, terrified for his job and possibly their friendship, but Ryan looks feverish, eyes wide and interested.
"Did that actually do something to you?"
Shane figures that ignoring the problem is his best bet. "Ryan, you're drunk. You can't just — "
But Ryan reaches out and pulls up the hem of Shane's shirt and as quickly as Shane knocks his hand away and smooths his shirt back down, he knows Ryan's seen all he needs.
"Is it the pet names?"
Shane absolutely isn't about to bare his soul in a bathroom, during work hours, in the house Ryan was raised in.
“Ryan.”
“Seems niche,” Ryan tells him as though Shane in any way asked for his opinion. “Or is it something else?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Shane grunts and Ryan’s head tilts like he’s not listening.
“Or do you just enjoy being the woman in the relationship?”
There's so much wrong with what Ryan says that Shane doesn't even know where to begin. But the issue is that at the heart of it he’s not wrong. Shane swallows and shakes his head, his heart rate ramping up at the thought of Ryan knowing his deepest, darkest secret.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he repeats, hoping Ryan will grow bored and leave, but Ryan takes a predatory step towards him.
“I guess there’s an easy way to find out,” he says and Shane wonders if he can bodycheck Ryan and escape before he realizes Shane’s gone. Ryan raises a hand and presses two fingers under the hinge of Shane’s jaw as though checking for his pulse. “What would happen if I called you a good girl?”
Shane knows Ryan feels the leap in his heart rate, even as he brushes Ryan’s hand away. Ryan’s eyes widen.
“Holy shit,” he exhales and Shane wishes for death.
“Ryan,” he begs. “This isn’t going to end the way you want.”
“You know what I want?” Ryan asks with a raised eyebrow, but Shane knows better than to answer. He keeps his mouth firmly shut. Ryan watches him for a moment before reaching out to touch Shane’s hip. “What if I want what it’s doing to you?”
"Then I'd tell you you're drunk and about to make the worst decision of your life."
"Would you stop me?"
"You're an adult," Shane tries. "You can stop yourself."
"That's not what I asked. Would you stop me?"
“That’s — ” Shane starts. “That’s not — ”
“It’s an easy question,” Ryan presses, both hands on Shane’s hips now, fingers firm. “C’mon, sweetheart.”
Shane still can’t bring himself to reply, but his face burns with his answer and Ryan stares at him like he can read him like the open book he is. Ryan takes one hand off Shane’s hip and brings it up to his face, fingertips grazing his cheek.
"Do you know how hot that is?'' Ryan asks, which is about the only warning Shane gets before Ryan pushes into his space and kisses him.
For a moment, Shane doesn’t know how to react, his mind reeling, arms stuck at his sides even as Ryan pushes closer, pressing all along Shane’s front.
“Don’t worry, baby,” Ryan murmurs against the corner of his mouth, one hand sneaking around to Shane’s ass. “I’ll be gentle.”
Ryan tastes like rum and mixer when Shane finally returns his kiss, knowing it’s a bad decision but doing it anyway. He wants it and if Shane has to be a little selfish to have it, then so be it. He doesn’t think about the friendship he’s about to ruin or the awkwardness it’ll create in the office. It’s just easy to take what Ryan wants to give.
“That’s it, darling,” Ryan encourages and Shane doesn’t know how to feel about how naturally all the endearments roll off Ryan’s tongue.
When Ryan slips his thigh between Shane’s own, Shane knows he must be able to feel how interested he is. How he’s never once flagged even with Ryan seeing this side to him.
“Want me to help you with that?” Ryan asks, but he’s already moving his hand off Shane’s face and tugging at the button of Shane’s pants.
Shane kisses him again as his answer because it’s easier than trying to find the words.
Ryan’s hand is steady when he drags Shane’s zipper down and he doesn’t hesitate as he reaches into Shane’s pants, past his underwear, to touch him.
Shane moans into Ryan’s mouth, unable to hold it in, and Ryan pulls back just to watch him.
“You need to be quiet unless you want my parents to hear,” Ryan says and Shane knows it’s just a fear reaction, but his dick twitches in Ryan’s palm and Ryan gets the wrong idea. “Oh, do you want them to hear?"
Shane shakes his head vehemently and Ryan laughs, squeezing him gently. “That’s where you draw the line?”
Shane doesn’t rise to the taunt and Ryan gives him a very dry, unsatisfying stroke like it’s punishment.
“Ryan,” Shane tries and Ryan swirls his thumb about the tip of Shane’s cock, humming thoughtfully.
“You’re already wet for me,” he says and Shane knows he doesn’t stand a chance against the onslaught. Somehow, Ryan knows exactly what to say to drive him crazy. If Shane didn’t know better, he’d think Ryan had had time to research things.
Ryan’s other hand slips down the back of his pants, grabbing a fistful of ass, fingers dipping between his cheeks. Shane doesn’t know whether to buck forwards or press backwards — he wants it all.
“You want my fingers in your pussy?” Ryan asks, brushing his middle finger across Shane’s hole, and Shane doesn’t think his knees will hold out.
“Jesus,” he hisses, clutching at Ryan’s shoulders to keep himself upright, even as Ryan grins, clearly pleased with himself.
Before Shane has time to think about it, Ryan takes his hand off him, spits into his palm, and gets his hand back on him. When he strokes him now, it’s easier, slicker, and Shane knows he won't last.
He bites back a moan and Ryan stares up at him. “God, are you always like this?”
Shane knows he isn’t, though he’s not sure if he’s more turned on now by the way Ryan’s talking to him or the fact that it’s Ryan.
“I guess that's a good thing,” Ryan says quietly, stroking him so perfectly that Shane knows without a doubt that it’s not the first time he’s done it to someone. “You’ll come before anyone even realizes we’re both gone.”
It’s not true and they both know it. The rest of the team is probably already speculating.
“I like you like this,” Ryan continues, “but maybe next time I can eat you out. Bet you’d get so wet for me.”
Everything inside Shane’s brain is screaming, but he’s not sure for what exactly. He just wants everything.
“Maybe next time I can fuck your pussy,” Ryan says, breath warm against Shane’s jaw. “You want that?”
Shane swallows and thinks if he doesn’t come, he might just straight up die.
“Tell me you want it,” Ryan orders and Shane lets his head tip back and thud against the wall behind.
“I want it,” he grunts and Ryan tightens his grip, teasing just the head of Shane’s cock, driving him wild.
“Tell me what you want.”
Shane lets out a heavy breath and half a whine. “Ryan.”
“I know you can do it. If you want to come, you’ll do it for me.”
Shane looks at the ceiling and bucks forward, pushing into Ryan’s grip.
“I want you — ”
Ryan speeds his hand up. “C’mon, baby girl. Say it.”
“I want you to fuck my pussy,” Shane finally grits out, screwing his eyes shut as he comes into Ryan’s hand, making a complete mess of both of them.
Ryan keeps stroking him, like he doesn’t know how to stop now.
“Holy shit,” he says, sounding awed, his hand finally stopping as Shane struggles for breath, which he thinks is a mix of exertion and anxiety from the post-nut realization that they’re in deep now. “Shane.”
Shane can’t bring himself to look down, but it’s difficult not to when Ryan presses up against him and kisses him like he doesn’t care what they’ve done.
“We have to get back out there,” Ryan laments even though the come probably hasn’t even cooled on his hand yet. “I’m into risks, but not like that.”
Shane nods wordlessly, but doesn’t even know where to begin. He doesn’t think he can remember how to walk let alone look human enough to film the rest of the episode.
Ryan takes a step back and seems to assess the damage. Shane glances down, too, but with a bit of water and careful clothing placement, he thinks they’ll probably be able to make it work. Until he notices the tent of Ryan’s jeans.
“What about you?” he asks quietly because he may be an idiot making bad life choices, but he’s not completely inconsiderate.
Ryan stares up at him as a slow grin spreads across his face. “You asked me to fuck you. If the offer still stands, I’ll get what’s mine later.”
Shane swallows and can’t help but think that once is an accident, but twice is a habit. If he says yes, he'll actually have to accept the consequences.
But the way Ryan looks at him makes him think it might be worth it. Slowly, he nods and Ryan lets out a breath like he’s been holding it.
“Great,” Ryan tells him. “It’s a date.”